


Regency Buck

by diner_drama



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Historical AU, M/M, regency au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24443260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diner_drama/pseuds/diner_drama
Summary: Steven Grant Rogers, for all that he was a man of noble birth and no small status, had very particular views on the injustice of contemporary society and would expound upon them with remarkable length and ferocity with very little provocation. Being an eligible young man with a not inconsiderable fortune and a large and beautiful estate, one might have expected that he would make an attractive prospect for a lady in search of a husband, but it was whispered that without tempering his attitudes and his fiery spirit, any gentlewoman to wed him would find herself quite at odds with polite society.Following the passing of his gentle mother, there was but one influence that could entice him into smoothing over his prickly manners for the sake of propriety — the dashing young James Buchanan Barnes, his childhood friend and intimate acquaintance.Would Mr. Barnes' good influence be enough to secure for Steven the hand of the beautiful and accomplished Margaret Elizabeth Carter, and to win the good graces of his neighbours?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 18
Kudos: 102
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, this fills square U2, AU: historical.
> 
> This fic doesn't actually have anything to do with the book "Regency Buck" by Georgette Heyer - I just really liked the title.

  
  


Steven Grant Rogers, for all that he was a man of noble birth and no small status, had very particular views on the injustice of contemporary society and would expound upon them with remarkable length and ferocity with very little provocation. Being an eligible young man with a not inconsiderable fortune and a large and beautiful estate, one might have expected that he would make an attractive prospect for a lady in search of a husband, but it was whispered that without tempering his attitudes and his fiery spirit, any gentlewoman to wed him would find herself quite at odds with polite society.

Following the passing of his gentle mother, there was but one influence that could entice him into smoothing over his prickly manners for the sake of propriety — the dashing young James Buchanan Barnes, his childhood friend and intimate acquaintance. 

Would Mr. Barnes' good influence be enough to secure for Steven the hand of the beautiful and accomplished Margaret Elizabeth Carter, and to win the good graces of his neighbours?

* * *

"I simply refuse!" fumed Mr. Rogers as he walked arm-in-arm with Mr. Barnes during their daily constitutional along the borders of his estate. "A ball, of all things! Why must there always be a ball?"

"For dancing," explained Mr. Barnes, not a little exasperated at having to traverse again this well-worn conversational path, "and dining, and young ladies, and other things that are generally well thought-of."

"Dancing!" scoffed Mr. Rogers. "To dance while not a mile hence, the people of this village till the fields, labouring under the hot sun. I am a pampered and over-indulged wretch! What worth have I as a man, to live in comfort while other suffer?"

"The weight of the world must not always rest upon your shoulders, my dear friend. A day of charitable works is not lessened when it is followed with a night of revelry."

Mr. Rogers harrumphed at this. 

"Besides," continued Mr. Barnes, ignoring his companion's dark spirits. "I must make good on my promise to find you a wife."

"I am perfectly capable of finding myself a wife."

"You most certainly are not."

"I have not requested your match-making services, Bucky," — I regret to inform you that Messrs. Rogers and Barnes continued to refer to each other by their childish nicknames well into adulthood — "and I do not want them."

"I suppose you think yourself a more accomplished match-maker than I," sniffed Mr. Barnes, holding his nose high in the air.

"If I turned my mind to it, I imagine I would perform admirably."

"It's settled then," declared Mr. Barnes, grinning broadly. "You must accompany me to the ball tonight in order to turn your _considerable_ talent towards finding me a wife."

Mr. Rogers scowled handsomely. "And a fine husband you would make, resorting to such low tricks."

Once they had completed their perambulation, the two gentlemen repaired back to Mr. Rogers' mansion to prepare for their evening's outing. As they sometimes did when together, they sent away the manservant and instead helped each other to dress.

"Who are we to expect at this gaudy spectacle this evening?" sighed Mr. Rogers, rolling Mr. Barnes' stockings up over his muscular calves for him. He lingered over the garters, idly hoping that any future wife would have such firm and pleasantly-scented flesh as his companion's.

"Your beloved Mr. Wilson," said Mr. Barnes with some degree of sarcasm, helping Mr. Rogers to his feet and wrapping his cravat around his neck, tying it with practised ease. "I believe Miss Romanoff is bringing a young lady, a friend from London. Mr. Barton, presuming that he does not injure himself putting his boots on. Mr. and Mrs. Stark, naturally. Aside from that I do not know."

Dropping to his knees, he held out Mr. Rogers' trousers for him to step into, then drew them up over his thighs as he held his shirt tail tucked in between his legs. With gentle hands, he fastened the buttons over Mr. Rogers' hip and smoothed the front of the garment over his stomach.

Mr. Barnes' waistcoat was next, slipped over his shoulders and painstakingly fastened by Mr. Rogers' nimble fingers. He thumbed at the brocade fabric absent-mindedly, fitting his hands around his friend's rib cage with the unconscious habit of life-long familiarity. Mr. Barnes fussed at Mr. Rogers' collar, straightening the points and smoothing the starched fabric. They moved around each other gracefully, like well-constructed clockwork, here tucking in a handkerchief, here fastening a button, all the while keeping in close contact, hands skating proprietorially over fabric and skin.

Eventually, their preparations complete, Mr. Rogers glanced at the grandfather clock and sighed. "I suppose it is time we readied the carriage."

"Chin up, dear fellow," Mr. Barnes consoled him, putting a thumb underneath Mr. Rogers' drooping chin and raising his head to look him in the eye.

"I suppose you're about to tell me that I will enjoy it more than I expect to," grumbled Mr. Rogers.

"Not at all, Stevie, but you don't want to rumple your cravat, do you?"

By the time they arrived at the Starks' residence, Mr. Rogers was in somewhat better spirits, having enjoyed the carriage ride and inquired after the well-being of every individual member of the driver's family. Buoyed up by this pleasant conversation and his delight in Mr. Barnes' company, he greeted Mr. and Mrs. Stark warmly.

Mr. Stark greeted them with a polite bow. "Steven, James, a rare appearance!"

"Howard, Maria," said Mr. Barnes smoothly, returning the bow. "I am delighted to have been able to tempt Steven from his hermitage."

"You have chosen an excellent occasion to make the pilgrimage — Anthony and Virginia have come for the week. I'm sure you will see them inside."

The Starks' home was, as always, decorated in the finest taste and with no expense spared. The long dining table sat along one wall of the spacious room, with the majority of the floor set aside for dancing, and a band playing a slow, quiet melody.

"Steven," called a voice from behind them as they made their initial assessment of the room. The two men turned to find its source, and stopped short. There could be no such vision as the two ladies who stood before them now, decked out in finery that could hardly compete with the loveliness of their countenances.

"Natasha," said Mr. Rogers, beaming and bowing, Mr. Barnes following in turn. "How wonderful to see you."

"Gentlemen, I must introduce you to my particular friend, Miss Margaret Elizabeth Carter, here to visit me from London," she announced, a pretty blush suffusing her cheeks as she brought forwards her companion with a hand at the small of her back. 

"Charmed, I'm sure," said Miss Carter, curtsying gracefully. "Natasha has many fine words of praise to say about her dear friends, and as she is not prone to bouts of flattery, I must assume that you are equal to it."

"I assure you, Miss Carter, we have had very few complaints when it comes to the enjoyment of our company," said Mr. Barnes smoothly, his face breaking out into his most charming smile — which, dear reader, was very charming indeed. "We will certainly do our best to live up to your expectations."

"Please, you must call me Peggy," laughed Miss Carter, amused but unruffled by Mr. Barnes' flattering manners. Miss Romanoff looked on with a private smile.

"I hope that you will do us the honour of dancing with us," said Mr. Rogers stiffly, unused to these social niceties but willing to use his rusty manners to please his friends.

"Dancing, Mr. Rogers?" cut in a sharp voice. Mr. Anthony Stark appeared from behind him, strutting towards them dandyishly in a truly preposterous cravat, nursing a glass of port. "Have you finally relented your fine and upright morals to join the ranks of the idle rich? I assure you, we're delighted to have you."

"Tony," Mr. Rogers greeted him curtly — becoming, if such a thing were possible, even more uncomfortable. "I would never be so impolite as to impose myself on your personal domain."

"I will lower you to my level eventually, my old friend," insisted Mr. Stark, moving on to inflict himself upon another group of party-goers.

"I see that you're a popular young man," commented Miss Carter archly.

"Steven is not a common fixture at these balls," explained Miss Romanoff. "We are very fortunate to have caught him deigning to mix with us rather than remaining committed to his life of solemn public service."

"It is refreshing to meet a serious gentleman," said Miss Carter, making Mr. Rogers whip his head up in surprise. "The world has enough preening dandies who think only of themselves, don't you think?"

"I am perfectly in agreement," replied Mr. Rogers with a genuine smile. "Might I request this dance?" he asked as the band struck up a tune.

"I would be delighted to," she responded, taking his hand and letting him lead her to their places in the line.

"Miss Romanoff?" asked Mr. Barnes, offering his hand.

"James," she said in a low, amused voice, accepting. The ladies and gentlemen in the room paired off and began to walk through the familiar steps of the dance, twirling and floating across the wooden floor. Mr. Barnes shot not a few encouraging grins towards Mr. Rogers as he danced, brow furrowed with the concentration of not stepping on Miss Carter's feet.

When they finished, flushed and laughing, Miss Carter and Mr. Rogers were immediately pulled away by their hosts and entreated to play a duet on the harpsichord and viola. Mr. Barnes took the opportunity to secure himself a fresh drink and to lurk a little outside the throng, losing himself in the music. Miss Romanoff leaned casually on the wall beside him.

"She plays beautifully, does she not?" he commented.

"I am much struck by her talents," replied Miss Romanoff, gazing over at Miss Carter with tender admiration. From the corner of her eye, she gave Mr. Barnes a sly look. "As I see you are with your companion's."

A blush suffusing his cheeks, Mr. Barnes looked away and scuffed the toe of his boot against the ground. "I hardly think-"

"I do not mean to be improper," demurred Miss Romanoff, gently laying a hand on his arm to calm his nerves. "You will find that discretion is my finest quality, if you choose to take me into your confidence, but I will not allude to any warmness of feeling without subtlety."

"I appreciate your tact," he murmured, collecting himself. "Naturally I extend the same offer to you."

"I should warn you, I have designs for the two of them to marry. My personal feelings aside, it is a beneficial match for the both."

"I should have expected no less," chuckled Mr. Barnes. "I have promised to find a wife for Steven, and I can think of worse prospects."

"I am delighted to have you as my co-conspirator in this plot," she whispered, clapping heartily as the performance came to an end.

Mr. Rogers ducked his head modestly, reddening at the praise he was receiving, while Miss Carter received the applause with calm equanimity, accepting the compliments that were due to her. Seeking out Miss Romanoff's gaze among the crowd, her face lit up and she headed towards them at a neat clip while Mr. Rogers was waylaid in conversation with his good friend Mr. Wilson. 

"A beautiful duet," said Mr. Barnes warmly. "You make an excellent pair."

Making noises of agreement, Miss Romanoff indulged herself with a kiss on her friend's cheek, making her lose her unshakeable composure for a second and let out an uncharacteristic giggle.

"You are very kind," she said, pink appearing on her cheeks. "Your friend is a very interesting young gentleman."

"I told you so," said Miss Romanoff in an undertone.

"Natasha has decided to use this visit to get me married off, Mr. Barnes," explained Miss Carter with a roll of her eyes. "Every eligible bachelor within driving distance of her estate has been described to me in the most exacting detail, in the hopes that I will consent to be the bride of one of them."

"We are a fine lot of specimens," he said smoothly with a bold smile. "None more worthy, I assure you, than my dear Steven."

"I shall bear that in mind," she responded cryptically. At this moment, the bell sounded for dinner and the evening continued. Before parting ways into their separate carriages at the end of the night, it was determined — largely, through Mr. Barnes' and Miss Romanoff's refusal to take no for an answer — that the four of them would meet again in the morning for a walk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have been informed by my dear Peggy that she found our Steven to be the least objectionable man she has met in recent times."
> 
> "Is this a ringing endorsement?" murmured Mr. Barnes, watching as his friend made halting conversation with the young lady.
> 
> "It's by far the nicest thing I've heard her say about anyone but me," laughed Miss Romanoff. "Save my miraculous transformation into one of your sex, he seems to be the most likely prospect for her matrimonial designs."
> 
> "By which you mean your matrimonial designs for her."

The weather was beautiful that morning, but Mr. Rogers was fretting about the potato crop, the urgent need to send a doctor down to visit one of his tenants, and his plans for renovating the village school, and even after all of these practical issues were dealt with for the time being, continued to ruminate and pace anxiously, until Mr. Barnes managed to get him dressed and presentable and pushed him out the door to meet their lady friends.

It was not a long walk from Mr. Rogers' front door to the winding, pleasantly shaded path they had chosen for their meeting, but the fresh air and the sight of the spring flowers beginning to bloom put him in better spirits, so that by the time they met with their lady companions he was on the very verge of cheerfulness.

The gentlewomen had dressed for the occasion, their cascading curls pinned back underneath their very fine bonnets, and Miss Carter's accessories showing neat little touches that showed Miss Romanoff's influence — here a cameo brooch, there a little piece of matching ribbon.

Mr. Barnes seized Miss Romanoff's arm as soon as was acceptable so that Mr. Rogers would be forced to partner with Miss Carter as they set off along the trail. Miss Romanoff gave him an approving nod, slowing her pace so that they were walking a few yards behind the other couple and could whisper and observe them in peace.

"I have been informed by my dear Peggy that she found our Steven to be the least objectionable man she has met in recent times."

"Is this a ringing endorsement?" murmured Mr. Barnes, watching as his friend made halting conversation with the young lady.

"It's by far the nicest thing I've heard her say about anyone but me," laughed Miss Romanoff. "Save my miraculous transformation into one of your sex, he seems to be the most likely prospect for her matrimonial designs."

"By which you mean your matrimonial designs for her."

"I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to a scheme, Mr. Barnes. I would not recommend underestimating me."

"On the contrary, I am grateful to be in on this little conspiracy with you."

Ahead of them, conversation had stalled and Mr. Rogers, looking very red in the face, had just broached the topic of this year's pea crops. Miss Carter's dismay and boredom were plain in her reactions, and Mr. Barnes was about to intervene when Miss Romanoff pulled him close. 

"Do not help me," she hissed in his ear. He barely had time to formulate a response before she had slumped to the floor in a dead faint.

"Natasha!" cried Miss Carter, dropping Mr. Rogers' arm immediately and rushing to her side. "Whatever is wrong?"

"We must take her to the house," declared Mr. Rogers, far more comfortable dealing in this kind of straightforward action than when engaging in polite conversation. Holding her under the knees and shoulders, he lifted Miss Romanoff as easily as if she had been a child.

"Bucky," he said urgently, "run and fetch the doctor. Peggy, please take her hat and gloves from where she has dropped them." With that, he strode away up the hill with Miss Carter keeping in anxious step beside him. Around Mr. Rogers' broad shoulder, Miss Romanoff turned to shoot a saucy wink to Mr. Barnes, who shook his head in exasperation and admiration and then started down the hill. 

By the time he returned to Mr Rogers' front parlour with Dr. Banner in tow, Miss Romanoff had been laid on the chaise lounge and was doing a very convincing impersonation of a damsel in distress suffering from heat stroke.

Miss Carter — who, frankly, seemed more transfixed by the sight of Miss Romanoff's heaving busom than by any display of manly heroism on the part of Mr. Rogers — was dabbing anxiously at her forehead with a cool, damp handkerchief. Mr. Barnes found himself admiring his friend's practical abilities enough for the both of them as Mr. Rogers strode to and fro to deliver smelling salts, cushions, and drinks, as directed by the doctor, with a very appealing expression of earnest concern on his handsome features.

"How embarrassing," laughed Miss Romanoff with an entirely unconvincing flutter of her eyelashes. "I was quite overcome with the heat. Thank Heavens for Steven's quick thinking. Don't you think he's a helpful fellow to have around, dear Peggy?"

"Yes," agreed Miss Carter, her eyes narrowing shrewdly. "How perfectly his talents have been showcased by your unfortunate malady, my dearest Natasha."

"I don't know what you could possibly be insinuating," said Miss Romanoff demurely, allowing Dr. Banner to assist her to sit upright.

"You do not seem to have any lasting effects from your fall," said the doctor after his examination, his fingers lightly gripping her wrist at the pulse point. "But you must drink water and remain in the shade for the rest of the day, and avoid exciting yourself unnecessarily."

Mr. Rogers walked Dr. Banner out of the front door, discussing with him in hushed tones the state of the wife of one of his tenant farmers. When he was out of earshot, Miss Carter gave Miss Romanoff a pinch on the arm. Miss Romanoff, being far too well-mannered to countenance letting out an unladylike yelp, merely rubbed the offending spot and gave her friend a piteous look.

"That's for scaring me half to death to further your ridiculous match-making agenda," hissed Miss Carter, not at all taken in by Miss Romanoff's wobbling lower lip.

"My methods may be unorthodox, but as one who loves you dearly, I believe it is my duty to find you a suitable husband."

"Yes, I have gathered that from the parade of country squires that you have been setting forth in front of me," she replied dismissively.

"Steven is my oldest and most stalwart friend," said loyal Mr. Barnes, bristling. "We were boys together, and have been inseparable ever since. I believe myself to be the world's foremost expert on his character and I assure you that as a husband he would have no equal."

"Then kindly marry him yourself!"

Walking back into the room at precisely the wrong moment, Mr. Rogers looked from one to the other with a hang-dog expression so ridiculous that they could not help but laugh, breaking the tension and smoothing over their ruffled feelings.

"You heard the lady, Stevie," chuckled Mr. Barnes. "You and I are to be wed."

"I shall stop at the vicarage on my walk tomorrow to engage his services," said Mr. Rogers with a barely perceptible smirk. "I take it that the ladies present will consent to be our bridesmaids?"

"I volunteer to cry during the ceremony," said Miss Carter, "and we've already established that Natasha can faint."

"Well, until we can make the necessary arrangements, might I suggest a game of cards?" said Mr. Barnes smoothly, holding out his hand to Miss Romanoff and escorting her into the drawing room, with the other pair following behind.

* * *

"I really cannot countenance any more of your meddling in my matrimonial prospects, Bucky," said Mr. Rogers that evening as the two men lay in a heap on a sofa before the fireplace, legs intertwined as they read. "The whole business wearies me. Why must I seek out further companionship when I am wholly content with my lot? You're not planning on fleeing the country or joining a monastery, I take it?"

"Perish the thought," laughed Mr. Barnes, kicking Mr. Rogers lightly in the ankle. "Imagine the levels of idiocy you could scale without my improving influence. No, I am thinking only of your welfare. Peggy is a fine and upright woman — a most sensible match for you. Natasha and I are completely in agreement."

"I suppose you think the matter to be quite settled, then."

"You may choose whatever bride you desire, but it is high time you married _someone_."

"I wish I really could marry you and have that be the end of it," sighed Mr. Rogers.

"I will not hear any more of such talk," said Mr. Barnes stiffly, closing his book with a snap and standing up abruptly from the couch. "It is one thing to joke with the young ladies, but if we make a habit of it then others may overhear. You may be content to run headlong into ruin with such dangerous words, but that is not the life I wish you to have. If you weren't such a stubborn fool, you would agree with me."

With that, he turned tail and left the room without another word, leaving Mr. Rogers to scowl at his retreating back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you were half as good with women as you were with horses," laughed Mr. Barnes, watching as his companion soothed the disgruntled beast, "I wouldn't have to worry about you so much."
> 
> "If Peggy could be effectively wooed with an apple and a pat on the head, we would be living in a very strange world indeed."
> 
> They weren't so far away from Miss Romanoff's home that the walk was onerous, and the canopy of stars overhead made their journey a little magical. In the safety of darkness on the deserted path, Mr. Barnes allowed himself the small luxury of letting his fingers tangle with Mr. Rogers', and they walked together in companionable silence until the warm lights of the house forced them to separate.

It was the next morning by the time that Mr. Rogers caught up with Mr. Barnes as he strolled through the orchard, and took him by the arm.

"Buck," he entreated. "Let's not quarrel."

Mr. Barnes graced him with a small, crooked smile. "We never quarrel for long, my old friend."

"I have just received a note from Natasha — if you are amenable, we are to dine with the ladies this evening."

"I see," smirked Mr. Barnes. "And you wish to use my charming manners to compensate from your prickly ones?"

Mr. Rogers jostled him with his shoulder. "Scoundrel."

"Malcontent."

"Will you come?"

"Of course."

With a parting squeeze to Mr. Barnes' arm, Mr. Rogers repaired at once to his writing-desk and dashed off a few lines to accept Miss Romanoff's invitation in the warmest terms.

They made the journey over in the late afternoon, Mr. Rogers electing to drive his own carriage and to send the driver off with a sovereign and strict instructions to buy some new toys for his children. Mr. Barnes joined him on the front seat, enjoying the fading afternoon sunlight and the feeling of the wind in his hair.

Miss Romanoff's grooms made short work of freeing the horses and ensuring their comfort under Mr. Rogers' anxious supervision, and then they headed to the front door to meet Miss Romanoff and Miss Carter, who were looking on with amusement.

"If you are not too concerned about the welfare of your horses," drawled Miss Romanoff, "would you care to join us for a walk before dinner?"

This was generally considered to be an excellent idea, and the four set off together. A little way past the front gates, Miss Romanoff stumbled unexpectedly and fell over in a heap. None of Miss Carter's concern from the previous incident was evident — instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and regarded her friend with extreme scepticism.

"Oh dear," said Miss Romanoff, entirely unconvincingly. "I seem to have broken my shoe. James, could I rely on you to escort me back to the house so that I can remedy this terrible situation?"

"Of course," chuckled Mr. Barnes. Leaning heavily on his shoulder, Miss Romanoff began to limp off back to the house, leaving the remaining pair staring after them with narrowed eyes.

"Our meddlesome friends are so very anxious for us to marry," laughed Miss Carter, taking Mr. Rogers' arm. "I imagine our consenting to a secluded walk like this will bring them undue excitement."

"I hope that you don't think that I'm involved in these underhanded tactics," he insisted. "I have no interest in deceiving you for a moment."

"Nor I you, Steven. It is true that from a material and societal perceptive, our marrying would be beneficial."

"I hope that I do not speak indiscreetly," he began, frowning earnestly, "but I feel as though I must take you into my confidence on this matter. My heart belongs — I believe it has always belonged — to another."

"To James, I presume," she replied gently. Mr. Rogers' head whipped up and he stared at her in alarm. "Do not fret, Steven. There should be no shame in this kind of love. I must confess that I am beginning to feel the same kind of love for my dear Natasha."

"She is a fine and upstanding woman," he said wryly. "In another world, I would be recommending you propose."

Her smile was fond, but it betrayed deep and painful sentiments. "What a world that would be," she said softly. They walked on for some time in silence, each quietly contemplating their situations, and taking comfort in the fact that, while their problems were insurmountable, they were not alone.

As they rounded a corner, another party of strollers crossed their path, and they made polite niceties until the group were out of earshot.

"There went at least three of the worst gossips in the village," Mr. Rogers confided. "Bucky will be delighted for us to have been seen."

"People are always so anxious to ensure that their neighbours are doing the right thing," laughed Miss Carter. "Wherever would society be without these infernal busybodies?"

"Free, perhaps."

"Come," she said solicitously, "let us turn back to the house before our friends can conspire any further without us."

They found Mr. Barnes and Miss Romanoff — her shoe miraculously fixed — lounging in the grass near the strawberry beds, lapsing into suspicious silence on their approach.

"Our dinner will be laid out by now, will it not?" said Miss Carter pointedly.

The conversation over the dinner table was cordial, aside from a few carefully-placed barbed comments to express Miss Carter's displeasure with Miss Romanoff's methods. Miss Carter's acerbic wit made her a natural member of their established little social group, and the discourse was friendly and brisk. Once the meal was finished, the party repaired to the drawing room for a pleasant few hours of games and conversation.

Later, after a number of glasses of wine and many rounds of cards, the gentlemen bid their farewells and set back off in Mr. Rogers' carriage. 

They had not gotten halfway down the road when, with a great snap, the rear axle on the vehicle clove in two, bringing the whole party to a grinding halt. Mr. Rogers leapt down at once to soothe the horses lest they bolt and drag themselves free of their halters.

"Shh, shh, shh," he whispered, laying a gentle hand on their bridles. 

Mr. Barnes inspected the broken axle by lantern-light and declared it beyond their ability to fix in the darkness. "We shall have to walk the horses back to Natasha's and beg for asylum until we can get someone out to fix the axle tomorrow," he pronounced, jumping up from the ground and dusting his hands off on his trousers.

"Here you go, love," crooned Mr. Rogers to one horse, slipping the harness free of the carriage and carding his fingers through her mane. Mr. Barnes unfastened the other horse in the same manner and they started back along the way they had come.

"If you were half as good with women as you were with horses," laughed Mr. Barnes, watching as his companion soothed the disgruntled beast, "I wouldn't have to worry about you so much."

"If Peggy could be effectively wooed with an apple and a pat on the head, we would be living in a very strange world indeed."

They weren't so far away from Miss Romanoff's home that the walk was onerous, and the canopy of stars overhead made their journey a little magical. In the safety of darkness on the deserted path, Mr. Barnes allowed himself the small luxury of letting his fingers tangle with Mr. Rogers', and they walked together in companionable silence until the warm lights of the house forced them to separate.

The grooms rushed out to meet them on hearing the tramp of the horses' hooves and were quick to assure them that they would be kept in the greatest comfort overnight, and that the carriage would be fetched and mended at first light the next morning. Thus heartened, the two men headed towards the front door. The housekeeper was not best pleased to be raised from her slumber at such an hour and was on the cusp of sending them away entirely, when a voice called from above.

"Send them up!" 

She finally relented, waving them upstairs and grumbling to herself as she walked off towards her own quarters.

When they reached Miss Romanoff's parlour door upstairs, they were greeted by a cacophony of giggling, before the lady herself appeared, looking like a wild thing in her nightgown with her hair tied in rags.

"Come in, quickly!" she hissed, holding the door open wide and ushering them inside, then furtively looking up and down the corridor before closing the door behind them.

"We're terribly sorry to disturb you," said Mr. Rogers politely, looking a little bewildered by her state of undress, "only we have had a mishap with the carriage and we won't be able to get home tonight."

"Nat?" called Miss Carter's voice from the adjoining bedroom. "What is this racket?" She stuck her head through the door. "Oh, hello, gentlemen," she greeted them. After some rustling, she stepped into the room, a gown wrapped hastily around her. "I suppose Natasha is about to scandalise you."

"She has not yet caused us any alarm," chuckled Mr. Barnes, greeting the ladies with a bow.

"Brace yourselves," murmured Miss Romanoff, and dramatically pulled a dust sheet from an easel that was set up in the corner.

On seeing the painting, Mr. Rogers could not contain himself from letting out a hysterical and somewhat unmanly giggle and covering his eyes. "Natasha!"

Mr. Barnes kept his composure a little better and looked over the painting with a critical eye. "You have taken the likeness of Miss Carter's face very accurately. As to the rest, I will decline, as a gentleman, to comment."

The painting showed, with remarkable artistry, a nude Miss Carter, decked in a crown of flowers and strategically holding a large feather. 

Miss Carter laughed and pecked Miss Romanoff on the cheek. "You are very kind, James. Where you intend to keep this, my love, I have no idea," she commented, covering the canvas back over again. 

"Why, next to my bed, of course! You will keep our secret, will you not, gentlemen?" 

"You may have our word," mumbled Mr. Rogers, chivalrous even in his discomfort.

"Excellent. Now, let's set you up for the night. I'm afraid we have but one bed for the two of you," lied Miss Romanoff unconvincingly, batting her eyelashes. "You don't mind sharing, do you, gentlemen?"

Both men gave her a sceptical glance but assented. As he was being escorted into one of the many spare bedrooms along the hall, Mr. Barnes stooped to make a whispered enquiry.

"Your devious match-making seems to have a different target to-night," he murmured in her ear.

"I have devised a new scheme," she replied, affecting an air of mystery. "Peggy has softened me somewhat on the topic of propriety and encouraged me somewhat on the topic of affection."

"I suppose my opinion on the matter is of no consequence?"

At this she only scoffed, and closed the door behind him.

"What conspiracy is afoot now?" sighed Mr. Rogers, turning to him, soft and angelic in the light of the dim lamps. "I struggle to keep abreast of your schemes."

"This is a scheme of Natasha's creation, that I am not yet a party to," said Mr. Barnes, absent-mindedly beginning to unfasten Mr. Rogers' waistcoat.

"I would pass some comment on the mysterious ways of the fairer sex, but you are no less guilty of underhanded attempts to manipulate my affections," said Mr. Rogers archly, looking down at him as they stood chest-to-chest.

"I wish you only happiness," mumbled Mr. Barnes as Mr. Rogers untied his cravat for him.

"Miss Carter's affections do not belong to me, nor mine to her," he replied, unable to stop himself from stroking one hand down the side of Mr. Barnes' face.

"That has never been an impediment to marriage in my experience," smirked Mr. Barnes, nonetheless turning into his touch.

After divesting each other of boots, breeches, waistcoats, shirts and stockings, they slipped under the covers on opposite sides of the bed, clad only in their undershirts, and each hesitated, wanting more than anything to take hold of one another and to embrace the way that lovers do, declaring undying loyalty and affection.

Instead, they both turned away to sleep and their sentiments lingered, unsaid, in the space between them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few mornings hence, the two gentlemen were taking their morning walk and arguing over the finer points of a card game that Mr. Rogers had lost quite egregiously the night before. Mr. Barnes' argument was that his superior skills had led to a natural victory on his part, whereas Mr. Rogers respectfully proffered the opinion that Mr. Barnes was a liar, a cheat and a scoundrel.
> 
> "My honour is grievously wounded by these allegations, you understand," said Mr. Barnes in mock outrage, clutching at his chest.
> 
> "Perhaps this will finally be the blow that kills that weak and underfed creature," sniffed Mr. Rogers. Mr. Barnes laughed uproariously and, darting forwards, snatched his friend's pocket handkerchief from his waistcoat.

A few mornings hence, the two gentlemen were taking their morning walk and arguing over the finer points of a card game that Mr. Rogers had lost quite egregiously the night before. Mr. Barnes' argument was that his superior skills had led to a natural victory on his part, whereas Mr. Rogers respectfully proffered the opinion that Mr. Barnes was a liar, a cheat and a scoundrel.

"My honour is grievously wounded by these allegations, you understand," said Mr. Barnes in mock outrage, clutching at his chest.

"Perhaps this will finally be the blow that kills that weak and underfed creature," sniffed Mr. Rogers. Mr. Barnes laughed uproariously and, darting forwards, snatched his friend's pocket handkerchief from his waistcoat.

When the miscreant sprinted away, waving his trophy aloft, Mr. Rogers gave chase and soon had him cornered against a tree, pressing up against his firm body to reach the scrap of fabric in his hand. Laughing, Mr. Barnes scrambled away up the trunk away from his prying hands.

"I'll drop it in the river!" he threatened, making his way out over the water hand-over-hand along a branch.

Suddenly, with a sickening crack, the wood snapped and the wild, beautiful smile on Mr. Barnes' face contorted into a look of pure terror as he plunged into the swollen river. A rock hidden under the surface made contact with his skull and, usually a strong swimmer, Mr. Barnes went limp, compelled downstream by the ferocious current.

"Buck!" bellowed Mr. Rogers. Feverishly, he tore off his jacket and waistcoat, and dove into the water after him without thinking, searching blindly in the muddy, roiling waters. Beside himself with fear, he cast around desperately, calling Mr. Barnes' name.

At last, his groping hands hit warm, human skin and he held on with all his might, one hand grasping a tree root, gasping for air at the surface. He managed to get a firm hold on his friend's body, wrapping an arm over the front of his chest, and set out towards the shallower bank the other side of the river. 

With a great deal of effort, he managed to heave Mr. Barnes' considerable bulk onto the grass, ripped open his waistcoat, and pressed on his chest in an effort to expel any water he had inhaled. 

"Come on, Buck," grunted Mr. Rogers through his teeth, putting his full weight into his exertions.

After a few seconds of this, Mr. Barnes rolled to the side and coughed wetly onto the ground, taking deep, gasping breaths. Dizzy with relief, Mr. Rogers gently rubbed and patted his back, making soothing noises as he regained his wits.

"Stevie," he gasped eventually, reaching up to clutch at his shirt. His breath was coming in great heaving gasps. "I think I've dropped your handkerchief."

Mr. Rogers began to laugh, and held his old friend to his chest, fingers gripping at the back of his waistcoat. They were both soaked to the skin, the thin fabric of their shirts translucent as rivulets of water ran from their sodden hair. They both collapsed into relieved laughter, holding each other close.

"You impossible creature," murmured Mr. Rogers into the crook of Mr. Barnes' neck. "You gave me the worst fright."

"You are half-drowned yourself from diving in after me, you reckless fool," countered Mr. Barnes, patting ineffectively at his wet hair.

"I would face all of Napoleon's armies to keep you safe," said Mr. Rogers passionately. "A small river is of no consequence to me." His breath hitched into a sob, and he could not help himself from pressing a small, sweet kiss onto the damp skin of Mr. Barnes' neck.

"I am safe," Mr. Barnes reassured him, holding him tightly and rubbing his back in small circles in an effort to soothe his excited nerves. "You have saved me."

"Bucky, I —" Mr. Rogers pulled himself up to search his companion's eyes. "If this is not what you want, then we may never speak of it again," he said with great animation, gripping Mr. Barnes by the shoulders, "but I cannot hold my peace for a single second more."

"Stevie—"

"Bucky — you tormenting, beautiful creature. You are the most loyal, the most stalwart, the most true, and the kindest of every person I have ever known. My love for you is overwhelming. It is the greatest ambition of my heart to find some way that we can be together. Please, tell me that you wish for this, too."

"Always," said Mr. Barnes seriously, bringing up a hand to stroke Mr. Rogers' cheek. "You must know that you are life itself to me."

"Then let us dissemble no further. You must no longer try to keep me from you."

"I promise," said Mr. Barnes, and finally their lips met in a sweet and long-overdue kiss. 

* * *

"I am delighted that you decided to invite us for dinner, gentlemen," said Miss Romanoff some time later as they relaxed after their meal by the fireplace. "This is a decided improvement on yesterday's meal at the Starks'."

"Yes," agreed Miss Carter. "They have taken it upon themselves to foist that odious Gilmore Hodge off on one or other of us, so we were compelled to be polite to him for an entire evening."

"Obviously, a young gentleman's attentions are such a great gift that one must submit to them no matter how onerous one finds them," laughed Miss Romanoff.

"I am sorry that we were unable to save you from such a fate," chuckled Mr. Barnes.

"Your note made it sound rather urgent," commented Miss Carter. "What is it that you wished to discuss with us?"

At an encouraging nod from Mr. Barnes, Mr. Rogers leaned forwards and steepled his fingers. "I think it is time for the four of us to come to an understanding," he began.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The village was blessed with two excellent marriages that winter — it was much rejoiced over that the reclusive Mr. Rogers had found a young woman willing to overlook his peculiar social beliefs, and for Mr. Barnes to marry as well, and the best friend of the young woman at that, was almost too much felicity to bear. The two couples were all such firm friends that they even elected to combine their households, and the four were often seen out and about together, arm in arm.

The village was blessed with two excellent marriages that winter — it was much rejoiced over that the reclusive Mr. Rogers had found a young woman willing to overlook his peculiar social beliefs, and for Mr. Barnes to marry as well, and the best friend of the young woman at that, was almost too much felicity to bear. The two couples were all such firm friends that they even elected to combine their households, and the four were often seen out and about together, arm in arm.

After the initial excitement of their marriages and the inevitable flurry of social invitations that followed the happy events, Mr. Rogers was delighted to be finally able to lead his life away from the prying eyes of the rest of the village, without fear of being thought peculiar. 

"My love," said Mr. Barnes gently, touching on his shoulder as he hunched over his drawing table, happily creating art for as many hours as he liked. "Come for a walk with me, you have been shut up in here all day."

"All day?" he replied, blinking rapidly. "I hadn't realised." He stood and stretched luxuriantly, then kissed Mr. Barnes sweetly, rubbing their noses together. His pleasure in being able to show his affection in private whenever the fancy struck him was too great to articulate.

Mr. Barnes helped him to his feet and they repaired to the parlour to find their wives. Mrs. Barnes, who was sitting by the fire and sewing a sampler that was frankly not suitable for display in mixed company, greeted them with a smirk.

"My wife," said Mr. Barnes with a bow. "Would you and Mrs. Rogers like to join us in taking a turn about the grounds?"

"Gentlemen," she responded, inclining her head with amusement. "I believe Mrs. Rogers and I will be otherwise occupied this afternoon."

"Such a rejection from my own wife," gasped Mr. Barnes, holding the back of his hand to his forehead. "Such a lot of time you spend with Mrs. Rogers these days. Marriage has changed you."

"Yes, for the better. If I had known that you only had to fall into a stream in order to secure these happy conditions, I would have pushed you in myself and saved us all the trouble."

"My mother thinks you're a lovely girl," said Mr. Barnes, looking wistfully into the middle distance. Mrs. Barnes punched him in the arm, then flounced out of the room to find Mrs. Rogers and to spend the afternoon doing whatever it was that made them giggle so much when they emerged to join the gentlemen for dinner.

"It appears that you have only me for company, my love," said Mr. Rogers, taking Mr. Barnes by the arm to guide him out of the house and into the grounds.

"I suppose there are worse fates that one might be subjected to."

Mr. Rogers jostled Mr. Barnes with his shoulder. "Scoundrel."

Mr. Barnes graced him with a sly smile. "Malcontent."

"I suppose, if you are so indifferent towards me, you won't be requiring this"— at this, he snatched Mr. Barnes' pocket handkerchief from his waistcoat —"to dab away your tears of joy at my affections."

"No, indeed, particularly as you seem incapable of learning from the last occasion on which we engaged in this kind of chase."

"I seem to recall it ending with the most blissful set of circumstances I am capable of imagining," responded Mr. Rogers, bowing decorously, before taking off at a sprint to race across the fields.

Mr. Barnes tipped his face to the sky and let out a great huff of annoyance before giving chase, speeding across the grass towards his beloved.

**The End __**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still in the mood for more Regency-related Stucky content I really recommend ["No Notion of Loving by Halves" by Bittersweet_in_Boston](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24781114/chapters/59923726).

**Author's Note:**

> [Subscribe to my profile to keep up to date with my fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diner_drama).
> 
> What were your favourite lines? Let me know in the comments.
> 
> You can also find me on the [Tumblr](https://hi-inevitable-im-dad.tumblr.com/).


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